The world Diana Graham once knew crumbled with merciless speed that she could have never imagined.
When the morning sun broke over the skyline, newspapers screamed her father's name in bold, merciless print: "Graham Empire Collapses: Fraud Exposed."
Diana stood at the window of her childhood bedroom, which once overlooked sprawling gardens and marble fountains. Now, beyond the glass, reporters clustered like vultures at the gates. Their cameras flashed each time she moved, hungry for the image of a fallen heiress. She felt her heart drop at each click their camera made.
She had not slept. How could she? Every tick of the clock echoed with the memory of last night, the raid, the shouts of uniformed men tearing through the mansion, her father's face drained of colour as handcuffs bit into his wrists on television screens and newspapers. Everything happened in just the blink of an eye, and she had been asleep the entire time he had been taken away. All she could do was watch it on the news.
She pressed her palms against the window frame, trying her best to steady her breathing but it was hard. Her chest felt caged, as though invisible hands pressed tighter with each headline, each betrayal that surfaced in whispers.
A knock on her door soon gained her attention.
It was her stepmother's maid, her face was pale, and her hands were trembling. She poked her head inside. "Miss Diana… the bank has frozen all the accounts. They...they've taken the cars."
Diana felt her heart sink once again and closed her eyes briefly. Of course, they had. The Grahams had not merely fallen, they had been dragged into ruin overnight.
"Thank you, Rosa," she said softly. Her voice was steadier than she felt. She could see the look of pity in Rosa's eyes as she retreated because she knew Diana wanted to be left alone.
The door clicked shut. Silence surged back into the room, heavy and suffocating.
By noon, Diana forced herself downstairs.
The once grand dining hall reeked of stale coffee and dread. Her stepmother sat slumped at the head of the table, her eyes red because of how much she had been crying. A single pearl earring was dangling and forgotten against her neck. Her trembling hand clutched a cigarette, smoke curling like a veil between them.
"They'll strip us of everything," her stepmother whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Your father… your father has ruined us."
Diana swallowed. She wanted to defend him, to insist there was more to the story, but the evidence flooding the media had silenced even her faith.
Before she could speak, the sound of wheels outside the house broke the quiet. Men in suits, officials, cold-eyed and efficient entered without ceremony.
Diana and her stepmother rushed to the living room to see what was happening and were met with this sight. There were over a dozen men in suits standing in their living room with deep frowns on their respective faces. "We have a warrant to seize everything in here until our investigation is over" One of the men stepped forward and flashed the warrant in their face. Neither Diana nor her stepmother could say a single word.
And the men didn't care. They watched as the men sprang into action and did their job.
They started to tag the furniture, artwork, and jewellery for seizure.
The sight sliced into Diana's chest. The chandeliers, the oil paintings, the heirlooms, everything tied to her family name were no longer theirs and all she could do was stand and watch.
But her stepmother couldn't. She rushed forward when one of the men touched one of her necklaces that had been given to her by her husband on their wedding anniversary. "You can't take that. It belongs to me! My husband gave it to me on our anniversary" she yelled out and tried to drag it away from the man's hand but this only lead to her being pushed away harshly by the man causing her to almost fall to the ground.
Diana was fast to help her but this only resulted in making her stepmother distraught than she already was. She pushed Diana's hand away and scoffed. "This is all you and your father's fault..." she spat out and Diana felt her stomach churn. Diana couldn't utter a single word even though she wanted to tell her step mother that she could fix this. How could she say that when she had no idea how to fix what had been shattered.
Her step mother stormed out of the room leaving her all alone with the men. When they were done and finally gone walked to the couch and sank into it.
Here fists curled in her lap. If her father had sinned, why must they all bleed for it?
She sank into the chair, fingers trembling, and for the first time in years, Diana Graham cried. Not soft tears, but harsh, tearing sobs that shook her shoulders and ripped the pride from her.
For hours she wept, until the evening pressed against the windows and exhaustion finally stilled her.
The day only seemed to take a worse turn as time went on.
The betrayal came swiftly after.
By evening, her phone rang relentlessly. At first, she thought friends were calling to comfort her. She answered one, her heart aching for a familiar voice.
"Diana, is it true?" A woman's voice, brittle with gossip. "Did your father really steal millions? I...I can't be associated with this, you understand. Please don't call me again."
The line went dead.
Another call came. And another. Each one was the same false concern twisted into distance, polite severances cloaked as necessity.
Her so-called friends abandoned her one by one. Those who once adored her presence at charity balls now treated her name as poison.
Finally, she hurled the phone against the floor, the screen shattering on impact. "What am I going to do?" Diana muttered, her breath, everything was happening so fast, and she was left overwhelmed by it. She had no idea who to call for help. She couldn't even call her father's lawyers anymore. Her call to them didn't seem to go through anymore, and she had no money to employ the best law firm in the country for help. All her accounts have been frozen, and no one wanted to be a part of the Grahams' downfall.
The next day, when she woke up, her stepmother was nowhere to be found. The maids informed her that she had left at the crack of dawn without a goodbye. The only person she had left was gone, and she was left all alone. Diana knew it was only a matter of time before she would be asked to leave the house she grew up in, and she didn't want to give them that pleasure.
She left the mansion in disguise, her hood drawn low, oversized sunglasses shielding her tear-swollen eyes. She had to escape the reporters.
The city she had once ruled with effortless grace now sneered at her. Billboards featuring her face as a socialite darling had been vandalised overnight with crude words. Paparazzi swarmed when she emerged, shouting questions that cut deeper than any blade:
"Diana! Did you know about your father's schemes?"
"Are you penniless now?"
"Who will you leech off next?"
Her driver had vanished along with the staff, so she hailed a cab with trembling fingers. The driver recognised her instantly; his eyes flickered with pity. She hated the pity most of all.
"Where to, Miss Graham?" he asked quietly.
She almost told him home, but the word no longer had meaning. Home was gone, it was stripped of warmth, of safety.
"Just… anywhere," she whispered.
The cab carried her away, the mansion shrinking in the rearview mirror like a relic of a forgotten life.
Two nights later, Diana stood alone on the balcony of a dingy rented flat, which she had been able to rent by selling off some jewellery that she had been able to hide from those cruel men who seized all they had.
The air stank of smoke and rust, a far cry from the perfumed gardens she was used to.
Her reflection in the glass startled her. The flawless heiress was gone. Her eyes, once bright with privilege, now burned with something fiercer, anger.
Because beneath the humiliation, beneath the despair, a truth pulsed like a heartbeat: this downfall had been orchestrated.
She had seen it in the precision of the collapse, the swiftness with which enemies struck, the way leaks had reached the media before authorities even arrived. Someone wanted the Grahams destroyed.
Her hands tightened on the railing. Whoever they were, they had underestimated her.
Yes, she was broken. But not shattered.
And then came the whisper of his name.
Diana sat at a table, her head hung low in fear that someone might recognise her. She was sick and tired of staying cooped up inside her apartment, so she decided to stay at a coffee shop near the flat. It was then she overheard businessmen discussing a takeover. Her eyes immediately piqued with interest as she listened to their conversation.
"Mr. Devon Knight will be pleased," one said, sliding papers he had been holding across the table. "The Grahams were the last obstacle. Now the market is his."
The name immediately lodged itself in her mind. Devon Knight. Who was that, and what did he have to do with her father's company?
"Yes, do you think this was all his plan? You never know, " another man said in a low voice as he picked up his newspaper. He sounded like he was afraid he would get caught because of what he was saying.
Diana felt her heart drop but her head was still hung low as she listened more.
"I only believe in facts, and the only fact here is that this is to his advantage."
Diana swallowed, her head slowly rising to see the men who were speaking about her family, but then A waiter approached her to take her order "Hello ma'am, what would you like to have?" the waiter asked in a voice loud enough for the men to hear and turn towards her. Her eyes met with one of the men, and his eyes immediately grew wide when he recognised her. Diana was swift she stood up and immediately bolted for the door.
Her mind strayed back to their words as she scurried quickly out of the restaurant. Devon Knight, she didn't know him yet. But something told her he was woven into this fall, directly or not.
As she walked back through the rain-slick streets, she lifted her chin.
If her father's empire had collapsed, if society had turned its back on her, if she had nothing left, then she would build herself again from the ashes.
And if Devon Knight stood in her way, she would meet him head-on.
Because Diana Graham was not done.
Not yet.